Men in Black Suits
by stetsonblack
Summary: Mike Ross hadn't really expected to be interviewed by Harvey Specter, nor for the cop chasing him to turn into a tentacled alien. Clearly, these aren't law firm interviews. And why does Harvey keep flashing that light in his eyes?
1. Chapter 1

**Original prompt by anon: MIB!AU.**

**Come on, guys. I know you want it too.**

**Harvey is the organization's best agent who just wants to work alone because if he has to suffer another idiot as partner again, he's going destroy the planet himself and Mike the ex-cop who's assigned as Harvey's new partner.**

**I'd like to read slash. H/M is my favourite pairing, but I can take GEN without much pain.**

**BONUS: Donna as some alien who was saved by Harvey and is staying because she has to pay her debt to him and because the people on the organization amuses her, as they seems perpetually scared of her.**

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><p>Mike ran through the stairwell at full speed, not caring about anything except the cop pursuing him.<p>

In his hand was Trevor's briefcase, which contained vacuum-packed bags of weed. Enough to put him in jail and destroy his grandmother's chances of staying in a private health care facility. Mike was determined to never let that happen; that's why he'd taken this job in the first place, after all.

He was going to kill Trevor if he ever made it out of here.

Bursting through the second floor stair access door he brought up the hotel's floor plan in his mind, hoping it would provide him with an escape route.

He recalled a sign in the lobby of the hotel that advertised law interviews for somewhere in the hotel. The sign had read: **PEARSON HARDMAN/HARVARD LAW INTERVIEWS/ROOM 2005. **Mike had always dreamed of being a lawyer until Trevor had screwed him over, which was starting to be a recurring theme. He headed for the interview location thinking maybe it was a sign of his fortune changing. He could hardly imagine it getting any worse at this point.

Mike rushed into the room populated by a large number of goofy, suit-wearing dweebs with briefcases identical to his own—only he suspected that none of theirs were filled with illegal drugs. He turned to find a very attractive and yet very intimidating redhead sitting at a desk.

"Rick Sorkin?" she asked him rudely. Mike looked around to make sure she was addressing him. He nervously tried to control his breathing and disguise the fact that he'd just run down a stairwell from undercover police officers. "Excuse me, Mr. Sorkin, you are _five_ minutes late. Is there a reason why I should let you in?"

Mike put up a placating hand, hoping he could stall enough to slip his tail. "L-look, I'm just trying to ditch the cops, okay? I don't really care if you let me in or not," he panted nervously, scanning for an exit.

He certainly didn't expect the redhead's demeanor to instantly change from hostile to helpful. "Mr. Specter will be right with you," she said kindly.

"…What?"

"Can I get you anything? A coffee or a bottle of water?"

Mike just stared at her confusedly until an extremely well-dressed, classy man in a three-piece suit came out of the room to his right and guided Mike inside.

Mike followed the suit dazedly, shaking the offered hand. "Hi, uh…Rick Sorkin," he managed.

"Harvey Specter. Nice to meet you. Why don't you have a seat here," the man said with a charming smile as he indicated the fancy oak desk just a few feet from them. Just as Harvey turned to walk away, Trevor's cursed briefcase chose that precise moment to betray Mike. It popped open, spilling its entire contents all over the floor.

Harvey looked down and back at Mike, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Whoa! What's this?" he asked too cheerfully.

Mike opened his mouth to respond, wondering how he was going to explain this, sure he was going to jail for a long time, when a tremendous crash sounded from the main room.

Harvey turned to it, groaned slightly, and proceeded to rush out of the room. Mike followed quickly and entered a scene from an old sci-fi film, complete with the terrible alien design and poor special effects. Except that it appeared, against all odds, to be real.

There was some sort of strange alien-monster in the middle of the room, complete with flailing tentacles and gaping maw. Its head appeared to be made entirely of its mouth, which held ten rows total of gleaming, pointed teeth that were dripping with gooey saliva. Atop its head were six protruding eyestalks that held bloodshot orbs the size of baseballs.

The room was quickly turning into a disaster zone. All the interviewees were running for their lives, bolting for the room's only exit. Unfortunately for Mike, he was on the entirely wrong side of the room.

"What the…" he trailed off as he saw that the alien was wearing what appeared to be a bellhop's uniform. It must have been the fake one that had been chasing him. His theory was soon confirmed as it caught sight of Mike and proceeded to aim a large slimy tentacle at him.

Mike dodged, pressing himself back against the wall as he noticed two people remaining in the room. One was the redhead, who was wielding some sort of large, silvery ray gun the size of a bazooka. She yelled at him to get back. The other occupant was Harvey Specter, who looked entirely unruffled at the sight of the monster, and was aiming some elegant-looking device at it. It looked like a garage door clicker except that it emitted the most shrill, ear-piercing screeching that Mike had ever heard in his life. Harvey and the redhead looked unfazed by the sound, but Mike and the monster weren't so lucky.

Mike threw his hands up as he cringed against the wall, vainly attempting to block the sound with his hands as earplugs. The creature employed a different method. It, too, covered its ears; but the thing had more arms than everyone in the room combined, allowing it to violently swing its remaining tentacles frantically in the hopes of halting the noise.

It struck Harvey quickly in the gut, causing the man to lose the device, which went flying to land not two feet from Mike's position on the wall. The redhead dodged a tentacle to the head only to have another one sweep her legs from under her. The ray gun let out a blast that blew drywall from the ceiling directly above Mike's head. He leaped out of the way as it came crashing down.

As the two victims struggled to recover, the monster turned its attention to them, whacking them with its massive tentacles. Mike used the leap he'd taken to avoid the falling debris, and the brief pause in tentacle-dodging exercises to lunge for the clicker device.

He reasoned that it hurt the creature, and while it hurt Mike too, he was willing to endure the pain it would cause if it incapacitated the thing. He jammed the single, shiny button down and held on to the clicker for dear life.

The alien immediately returned its attention to Mike, aiming all of its tentacles except the two it was using as earplugs, at him. A few managed to wrap around his torso and his legs and were now slamming him against any flat surface in the hopes of getting him to release the device.

But there was no way in Hell Mike was letting go.

Just as his ribs felt like they were about to crack completely, and his brain felt like it was going to explode from the screeching and the impact of hitting numerous hard surfaces, the monster froze.

Mike opened his eyes against his pain-clouded judgment, and looked at the thing just in time to see its head explode. Guts and brain matter splattered everywhere, drenching Mike in the gross stuff as he fell to the floor with a dull _thunk_!

He lay there for a good minute, eyes open to slits, ribs protesting at every expansion and decompression of his lungs. His head really hurt, and he was fairly certain that it was soon going to follow the monster's example and explode when a gentle hand pried the device from Mike's grasp, silencing the piercing noise.

Mike looked up to see none other than Harvey Specter, looking entirely immaculate and completely untouched by alien goo.

Harvey said something to Mike, but all that Mike's sensory input registered was that the man's lips had moved. No sound reached him. In a moment of adrenaline-fueled panic, he reached up to examine his ears to find that they were still intact, despite the intense ringing sound that was starting to rip through his skull. Mike realized belatedly that he could now hear somewhat, and that Harvey and the redhead were discussing something next to him.

"This is why I didn't want to do this," Harvey complained. "Donna, would you—"

"On it," the redhead—Donna?—said.

Harvey turned back to Mike as the woman left the room. He crouched next to Mike's unmoving form, not a hint of concern on his face, and asked, "Still in there, kid?"

Mike nodded angrily, wincing as he tried to move. He flinched as his ribs gave a particularly sharp stab at his lungs, and the room began to spin.

When he opened his eyes—vaguely wondering when he'd closed them—Harvey was playing with something that looked like the ear destroying device. Mike shimmied away from it as much as his injuries would allow.

Harvey gave him an amused smirk. "Would you relax? It's just a scanner."

Mike stilled as he realized that whether or not it actually _was_ a "scanner", it most definitely wasn't the clicker device. He allowed himself to relax.

"You've got some minor injuries. Nothing we can't fix in a pinch. Well, except the concussion, of course. Now, since I've been reassured that you are in fact still capable of human speech, do you want to explain why you came to a law interview carrying a briefcase full of pot?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Yeah, I have no idea where all of this came from. Really, the prompt was just too funny to not have it be filled. So here is the result of my addled abby-normal brain.**

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><p>Mike had finished the story of his life up to his deal gone wrong in the hotel and was now idly wondering if this wasn't all some sort of drug-induced hallucination. Maybe he was in a coma somewhere, dying of brain trauma, and this was his mind's subconscious trying to show him something.<p>

Mike dazedly noticed that Harvey was talking to him. "Well, unfortunately, I'm not actually a lawyer, and while personally, I would give you a chance just for the hell of it, I couldn't actually hire you anyway. Forget Harvard Law, you haven't even graduated from _any_ law school."

"What if I told you I consumed knowledge like no one you've ever met _and_ I've actually passed the Bar." Mike wasn't quite sure why he was arguing. He was fairly certain now that the interviews hadn't actually been for a law firm, considering what he'd seen of Harvey Specter and his assistant extraordinaire. Plus, he was fairly certain the interviews were canceled on account of the big pile of alien remains that plastered the walls. But he blamed his actions entirely on his concussion.

Harvey's eyes seemed to sparkle a bit, and he rose to the bait eagerly. "I'd say you're full of crap."

"I can prove it," Mike said, adjusting his position on the floor in anticipation of proving himself.

But once more, they were interrupted, this time by Donna's return. Strangely, she seemed to be wearing a pair of stylish but very dark sunglasses. "All done. We should finish up. JP wants us back at base so she can yell at you for sabotaging your interviews. Also, clean-up needs to get in here, pronto."

Harvey sighed at her and nodded. He looked like a kid whose favorite new toy had just been taken away. "Yeah, yeah." He turned to Mike, donning a pair of similarly darkened sunglasses that were definitely above Mike's pay grade, and holding out a thin cylinder with a flash bulb on one end. "Sorry, kid. I'll do you a favor and deal with your little cop problem. Best of luck."

And then there was whiteness.

Mike painfully blinked away dancing spots from his vision as it spiked his headache up a notch. He took in a deep, sharp breath and watched as Harvey and Donna began to make their way out of the room.

He couldn't believe it! They were just going to leave him there with the alien carcass! Forget the cops finding the drugs! He was in a room with alien monster insides all over his outsides!

Mike stood angrily, clutching the wall for support. "You're really going to just leave me here with this…what the Hell is that thing, anyway!"

Harvey and Donna stopped the moment they'd heard Mike's voice. Now they simultaneously turned slowly to face him, bewildered looks on their faces.

"Excuse me?" Harvey asked, voice quiet and dangerous.

"Maybe it's broken again?" Donna suggested ponderously. "You know how L likes to mess with you."

Harvey shook his head, and hastily shoved the blinding cylinder in Mike's face again. It went off before Mike could close his eyes, and he threw his head back in agony. It hit the wall with a muffled and painful thud.

Mike desperately attempted to keep the room from spinning and the floor from melting as he blinked the spots away again. Harvey and Donna were silent, and he could tell that they hadn't moved from their positions.

"Was that really necessary?" Mike grumbled. "You know flash bombs only work if you run away _before_ your victim can recover?"

"That's not possible," Harvey growled.

Donna cocked her head to the side as she examined Mike. "Interesting," she mused. "Are you certain he's human?"

Mike was sure, in hindsight, that had he not had a concussion, he would have interjected with a disbelieving question right then. But unfortunately, he was still attempting to recover from the second flash which was threatening to pull him into unconsciousness.

"We're running short on time, Harvey," Mike heard Donna say, and he wondered, for the second time in the last few minutes, when he had closed his eyes.

"Fine. We'll just have to take him with us, then."

"You're the boss."

Mike didn't really want to go anywhere with these two strange strangers. He wanted to go home, lie in bed for a week, and then murder Trevor. He took a cautious but determined step forward to assert that there was no way he was going anywhere with these two, when his legs gave out under him and everything went black.

He was going to kill Trevor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Yay! I updated! For those of you following me (if you exist...?) then you're probably wondering when I'll get with the program and update Clothes Make the Man. I will be working on that story next, so please wait just a bit longer. It is in no way abandoned. Anyway, let's get back to this story! Enjoy! **

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><p>When Mike woke up it was to find that he was no longer in the hotel.<p>

He was in what appeared to be a white room, where he was lying on a metal table, surrounded only by emptiness.

He leaped up and staggered off the table, trying to make sense of his surroundings. His head felt fuzzy, like he'd been drinking, and the room spun around him. Only, it was hard to tell if the room was spinning or it was just him, since the lack of any furnishings made finding a reference point virtually impossible.

He stumbled against the walls, throwing his shoulder against it in the hopes of steadying himself.

After a minute of rest, he finally felt better, more sure of his feet. The room had also stabilized, so he took a look around to find that there was no door.

No door. No way out. He was trapped. He had to get out.

He took deep, calm breaths in an attempt to relax. Hyperventilating and falling into hysterical panic wouldn't help him escape any faster.

So once he felt collected he looked around again, searching for anything out of the ordinary.

That's when he noticed the lines on the wall to his left. They were very faint and he almost thought he'd imagined them, but running his fingers over them confirmed their existence. There was a small groove in the wall that outlined the shape of a doorway. Now if only he could figure out how to open it.

He was about ready to just kick the damned thing after trying everything he could think of, when it slid into the wall suddenly.

He dodged to the side, back against the wall to attack whoever (or whatever, he thought, remembering the tentacle monster from before) was about to enter.

Mike leaned back to swing his arm into the person who stepped through the threshold, but managed to stop himself as he saw a beautiful woman walk through instead of the monster. She turned to look impatiently at him and he stared dumbly back.

"Mike Ross?" she asked, voice full of boredom and annoyance. He got the feeling that she didn't want to be there any more than he did.

"Uhh…" he said, hoping she'd explain where he was.

"I'll be giving you your orientation," she said, like he was supposed to know what that meant. She smiled a fake smile expectantly at him, holding her hand out to shake.

Dazed, he gripped it lightly, and let out, "You're pretty," because it was all he could think to say. He hadn't actually realized he'd said it out loud until she gave him a tiny glare.

"Good. You've hit on me. We can get it out of the way that I'm _not_ interested."

Mike felt immensely lost, and managed to get out, "No, I'm sorry, I wasn't hitting on you. I was—" before he was interrupted.

"Trust me. I've given dozens of these, and without fail, whatever hotshot it is thinks that because I'm just the relationship manager, that I will somehow be blown away by his dazzling rank. Let me assure you, I won't."

"I was," he ceded, and she gave a little sound of agreement. "I _was_ hitting on you."

"You were," she said. An amused twinkle in her eye had now replaced the glare, and she shoved a notepad and pen into his hands. "Take notes, I'm not going to repeat myself."

As she walked away, Mike stood there, admiring this strange woman who'd suddenly made him feel, if not safe and welcome, then at least normal. "I love you," he whispered softly, hoping he'd get to see that amused twinkle again soon. Right after he figured out where the hell he was, of course.

He followed her out of the room. They were in a long white corridor, and she was saying something about how this was the corridor to the observation rooms, the conference rooms, etc. He looked for windows, or exit signs, but saw nothing; only white hallways and the occasional passerby wearing the exact same style of suit—black with matching black tie and matching black shoes.

He caught up to his guide and gave her a desperate look. She took pity on him and slowed her pace.

"Do you know Harvey Specter, by any chance?" Mike asked. He remembered the man's name, of course, since the man had been the last thing he'd seen before waking up in this place.

"I do. He's one of our best agents. Everyone says he's the best in the business, but I have very little contact with him, so I don't know," she trailed off.

Now Mike knew that this place must be bad, if Harvey Specter, destroyer of tentacled monsters and piercer of eardrums was involved. If only he knew where _here_ was. He looked at his guide and got the feeling that she'd warmed up to him slightly. Maybe he could risk asking her?

"Can I ask you something?" Mike said nervously.

She waited for him to continue.

"Where am I?"

She gave him a confused look, as though she was trying to determine if he was for real. "Let's continue with your tour," she said, and took off down the corridor at an increased pace.

Mike jogged to catch up with her. When he did, he found her waiting at a door just like the one to his room, but when this one slid open it revealed a large room with all sorts of crazy things in it.

Against one wall was a line of what looked like metal detectors with strange-looking creatures going through with about as much enthusiasm as airplane passengers. In the center of the room were two creatures that sat side by side, constantly attending to large monitors with all sorts of cryptic symbols on them. There was a separate wing in the far back that looked like it was filled with gadgets and gizmos, and directly above them was what looked like a fancy, all glass war room.

She tutted at him and he followed along, hoping he didn't get lost amongst the impossible crowd. Maybe this was some sort of science fiction convention, or an elaborate costume party? Somehow he didn't think so.

They headed towards the back wing, where his guide showed him all sorts of things that he wasn't ever supposed to touch, and they passed by someone named 'L's office—they'd actually made a wide arc around it, Mike noticed, but he didn't comment on it; his guide seemed pretty pissed at him already.

Next was the main room, where she explained the job of the two aliens at the monitors, the airline security checkpoint, and the various creatures standing there. Apparently, Mike was in some sort of checkpoint, where aliens from all over the universe (though, mostly the Milky Way Galaxy, apparently) were being stopped, forced through passport control and customs, and given a disguise in order to blend in with the humans. Mike took all this information in and decided not to comment at the moment. He was too busy trying to process the fact that there were aliens in front of him.

He realized she was yelling at him again, pointing to what looked to be a long few rows of desks, filled with people in those identical black suits again, furiously scribbling away, or fiddling with one of the various 'forbidden' objects she'd shown him back in the Tech Department.

She led him over to one of the empty desks and stopped. "And finally, this is where you'll live."

Mike stared down at the desk, trying to decide if this was real, or if his desk was about to reveal itself as an alien in disguise.

His guide glared at him. "I gave you that for a reason," she said, pointing to the unused notepad Mike had been carrying. "You haven't taken one note."

"That's because—" he began to defend.

"—because you were too busy ogling me to listen to a word I've said?"

Mike was now very annoyed. He had no idea where he was or why he was here at all, and now this crazy but beautiful woman was accusing him of having not paid attention to her? He'd show her!

He quickly gave her a summary of her tour, including pointing out her fear of that 'L' character, and finishing up by adding that just because she was only a 'relationship manager' (whatever that was), he had no right to command her services. "It's also pretty clear you think you're too smart to be just a relationship manager," he added, feeling bold.

She gaped at him, but the smile was obvious in her eyes. "You know what nobody likes? Nobody likes a showoff."

"You used the word ogling!" Mike defended as she stalked away. Then realized that he needed her, that he had no clue what the hell he was doing here. "Wait! Let me see Harvey!" he shouted after her. Maybe that suit could fix this. It was all his fault anyway.

Mike sighed as he realized he was on his own, and sat down at the empty desk. He had absolutely no idea what he should be doing, nor why he'd been given a desk at all.

After what felt like hours, but was actually only a few minutes, he stood up, completely ignored by those around him, and marched off to explore. If Harvey wouldn't offer him an explanation, then he'd go find the damned not-lawyer and force one out of him.

He walked over to the technology department and was promptly hit in the head with something very tiny.

When he came to, he was lying on the floor staring up at a dark skinned man with spiky hair. He wore the same black suit that seemed to be the standard around here, but without the jacket. And Mike noticed his dress shirt had short sleeves, with a nice red tie to break the monochrome color scheme.

"Oh good. You're still alive," the man said disappointingly.

Mike thought that was rather rude, considering what his day had been like so far. "Don't sound so happy," he grumbled.

"It's supposed to kill you," the man argued.

"Yeah, I think I'll just stay away from this area from now on," Mike said, picking himself up off the floor and backing away amidst the man's annoyed protests.

Mike made a mental note to leave that department alone. Maybe he'd go check out the aliens instead. They looked interesting enough, just so long as none of them had tentacles and were wearing bellhop uniforms.

He stood watching the queue of creatures move along at a crawling pace for a little while, before realizing that it was exactly as boring as waiting for airport security. He decided that despite the creatures before him, he was bored, and tired, and he wanted to go home. He needed to find Harvey.

So Mike stalked around the building until he found what looked like an impressive corner office, complete with color in it and everything. It was like stepping into a different reality. There was colored carpet, colored furniture, an actual view of the city from actual windows, and a whole wall of records, each painted in a myriad of colors. Mike recognized from the view that they were several stories up, in amongst Manhattan's landscape of skyscrapers.

The name on the door read simply, 'H'. Only Harvey Specter would be so egotistical to assume that one letter was enough to represent his entirety. What an arrogant—

"Mike," Harvey said, noticing Mike staring out his windows. They were alone in the office, and Mike studied the man before him, noticing that he also wasn't wearing the same boring suit that seemed to be so popular around here.

"I'm sorry, do we know each other?" Mike asked angrily. He certainly didn't want to know Harvey.

Harvey winced. "Sorry, Mike, I'm going to have to let you go. Donna will show you out and wipe your memory."

Mike frowned. He'd been confused and a little upset before, mostly because he didn't know what was going on, just that it must be Harvey Specter's fault. But wiping his memory? He couldn't imagine not being able to remember. That's what Harvey had been trying to do with that obnoxious light back in the hotel! Mike took a step backwards, body tensing.

Harvey looked uncomfortable. "I just got reamed for lying about an alien's credentials to my boss. If JP finds out I hired you instead of one of the actually qualified interviewees, and the real reason I had to have the clean up crew at the Chilton Hotel, she'll put me all the way back in the mail room of an _actual_ law firm."

Mike glared at this man. What did he mean 'hire' him? He'd been hired? For what exactly? And now Harvey was going to erase his memory? Well, it hadn't worked the last two times. That fact alone was enough fuel for Mike to defend his position.

"Wait, so you got in trouble for breaking the rules, which you did again by hiring me, and now you're firing me so she won't maybe find out you broke the rules? But if you fire me, I can just tell her the whole story and then she'll definitely know you broke the rules."

Harvey stared at him in wonder. "Are you blackmailing me?"

Mike stared dazedly at Harvey Specter, wondering at the audacity of this man. "You just put your interests before mine, now I'm putting mine back up with yours…"

Harvey gazed at him a few more seconds before saying, "You're rehired," and whisking his way out of his office, leaving Mike standing there even more confused than he had been before.

He thought he'd just gotten a job, but he had no idea what it was for, how he'd gotten it, nor why he'd fought to keep it. And he wondered why Harvey had wanted him for it in the first place.

So he sat in one of the chairs in Harvey's office, waiting for the man to return with an explanation.

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><p><strong>Reviews? Pretty please?<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the long wait folks! I know this one's short, but hope you enjoy anyway!**

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><p>Mike startled from his nap as something was thrown over his head. He scrambled to remove the cloth and scan his surroundings for signs of his attacker, only to find an amused Harvey Specter standing smugly before him.<p>

"We'll get you some custom ones later. I can't have my partner looking like he works for the FBI," Harvey said and went around to sit at his desk.

Mike balled up the cloth, which he realized was one of the black suits that everyone seemed to wear around here. It was nicer than any suit Mike had ever worn and he wondered what Harvey meant when he said they'd get him better ones.

Mike rose angrily to his feet. "Will you please explain what the hell is going on?"

Harvey stood slowly and glared at Mike. "Excuse me?"

Mike glared right back. "I nearly just got killed by an alien and then I get blinded twice in succession only to find that I'm in some weird room on a metal table where I nearly get killed by an unidentified flying object, find out that aliens exist, and that I'm now supposed to be working here!"

Harvey didn't answer, just waited for Mike to finish. "You were the one who just argued for this job," he said calmly.

"I didn't—what?"

"As I recall, I was going to send you on your way, when you told me in so many words that letting you go wasn't an option. So don't give me that crap about how you want out."

Mike blinked for a few minutes, trying to process Harvey's words. He _had_ argued to keep this job, hadn't he?

"I assume someone gave you a tour already?" Harvey asked.

Mike nodded. "Yeah, Rachel, the 'relationship manager' or whatever. What does that even mean, anyway?"

Harvey gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "She's in charge of keeping everyone happy enough to get work done. She's also an expert on various alien species, so we use her for research purposes." Mike chose to ignore the hint Harvey was giving him that she was off limits; Rachel was hot.

Mike nodded. "Okay, then who's that 'L' guy?"

Harvey frowned. "L is in charge of the technology department. He also sometimes oversees paperwork, so if you have to do any, which you will, then he's in charge. But do _not_ listen to him. I'm your boss, not L."

Mike sensed there was some history there and decided to leave it alone for the time being. He still had too many questions. "Okay, Donna then," he asked.

Harvey shrugged. "What about her?"

"Well, a minute ago, you said I was your new partner, but I thought she was your partner back at the hotel."

"Donna is…my assistant. She helps out on occasion and she insists on accompanying me for field exercises, despite my preference to fly solo. She knows everything that goes on here, so don't piss her off," Harvey said in warning.

Mike filed that information away for safe keeping. She had seemed scary enough back at the hotel with that giant ray gun bazooka thing; and she had been using it in heels.

"Anything else?" Harvey questioned, sounding bored.

"Um, yeah. Where are we?"

Harvey gave him a skeptical look.

"Seriously. It wasn't in the orientation."

Harvey shook his head in exasperation and began something Mike immediately recognized as a quote. "We are the best kept secret in the universe. We work for a highly funded yet unofficial government agency. Our mission is to monitor extra-terrestrial activity on Earth. We are the best, last, and only line of defense. And so on."

Mike had to admit, he was still confused. Apparently Harvey could tell, because he scowled at Mike and said, "Figure it out in your spare time. Not that you'll have any. We have a case to do in an hour. Just enough time to get you outfitted." Harvey stood from his seat at his desk and strode out of his office. Mike hastened to follow.

"Where are we going?"

"You talk way too much," Harvey said and stopped before a screen and a large metal sphere.

"Oh no," Mike said suddenly, recognizing the device. "I've seen enough science fiction stories to know that I won't like that. What does it do? Erase my fingerprints? You do realize that erasing someone's fingerprints creates a new pattern that can be just as recognizable as the original pattern, right? Statistically speaking—"

Harvey grabbed Mike's wrists and placed Mike's hands on the sphere. His rant of the statistical impracticalities of the process morphing into a shout as the device seared off the layers of skin on the pads of his fingers.

Harvey fiddled with the computer screen and deleted Mike's name from digital existence. They'd send someone to recover the paper copies later.

"This way," Harvey said and started to march over towards the area Mike had decided never to return to. He spotted the spiky-haired man in the corner and jogged to walk beside Harvey, using the man as a moving shield.

Harvey stopped and raised a perfect eyebrow at Mike. "What are you doing?"

"Uh," Mike said eloquently. He stood still, careful not to step into view of the lethal man in the corner. Harvey squinted suspiciously at Mike but continued walking.

They entered what looked like a locker room, and Harvey directed Mike over to one that had the letter 'M' on it.

"This is your new name and your locker. Only you can open it, blah blah, take care not to lose the assigned uniform, etc. etc." Harvey shook his head as he mentioned the suit, complete with finger pointing in the direction of the room's nearest trash receptacle. Mike resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his new boss.

He scanned the lockers for any sign of an 'H', and found a dinky little locker on the end of the row.

"So am I supposed to call you H? Is Harvey Specter just like, a code for something?"

Harvey blinked at him. "Do we need to have a talk about interrupting me?"

Mike coughed nervously and kept his mouth shut.

"No, I don't go by H. That code is already taken by another agent."

Mike glanced back at the locker and noticed on closer inspection that it was covered in a thick layer of dust. It looked like no one had so much as touched it in years.

"We expect he'll check in someday," Harvey said cryptically.

"Should I be worried?" Mike wondered aloud.

Harvey started to walk out but closed the door on Mike as he made to follow. "Get changed. We're going to be late."

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><p><strong>Hope you liked it! I hate to sound desperate but, oh what the hell...Please review? <strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**First, I would like to apologize for the extremely long wait for this update. I was busy with school until a little while ago, not to mention suffering from crippling writer's block. I hope you enjoy this update! I have another chapter prepared as well, which I will post approximately 24 hours after this one. Thanks for your patience! Also, thanks to xxxmaiko-chanxxx for taking the time to review! You are awesome. I am planning on working in something explaining how they are related to law, but that shall be explained at a later time. I promise I have not forgotten about it. Until then, please enjoy some whumpage.**

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><p>After changing into the suit and receiving a pair of sunglasses from Harvey, they headed in the direction of what Mike remembered Rachel mentioning was the elevators. On the ride down, Harvey pulled out a sleek black device and started pushing buttons on it. Mike eyed it nervously.<p>

"What does that one do? Turn us invisible?"

"Nope. It's this really neat little device that calls people, accesses emails, and connects to this insignificant thing called the internet," Harvey said snootily.

Mike frowned and looked at the device more closely, only to realize that it was just a blackberry phone.

They exited the elevators on the ground floor, which opened to a glass lobby that appeared to be in one of the more high-end sections of New York's business district. But then again, he had been able to see Central Park from the main floor's windows, so he already knew where they were.

Harvey went to stand by the curb.

"Let me guess. You have some fancy classic car that you're going to insist on driving."

Harvey gave him an unreadable look before fiddling with his phone and shoving it in his breast pocket. He then promptly proceeded to wave for a taxi.

"I knew it," Mike muttered and got in the car.

They stepped out at some fancy restaurant called _Little Jacque_.

Harvey was already conversing with the hostess, while Mike stared at the menu they had posted outside. There were some very odd dishes listed that he'd never heard of before—something called Orndian Borscht, which included ingredients like Hugthvart and Wyrwoom-Verr served in a classic Gytros'gh bowl chilled at 65°B.

Harvey finished his conversation with the hostess and leaned over the menu to fix Mike with a glare.

"Stay," he said, complete with down-pointing finger before stalking inside the place.

Mike glared at him and turned around to watch the street.

The cars swarmed by in a slow-moving thrall. He busied himself counting the taxis that went by, but after two minutes grew bored. It was too easy. So instead he studied their location.

He must have been down this street before. As a kid, he'd made it a point to explore every inch of New York to make a custom map in his head. Not that he'd technically needed one, but it was more exciting than memorizing a piece of paper.

But all of the shops on this street were ones he didn't recognize. He checked the corners of the block he was on with his mental map, and recalled the stores he'd remembered from his last time here, but not one matched. Except…

There was a jewelry store directly across the street, and while it bore a different name than the one from his memory, it was still a jewelry store. He focused on the storefront. It was a bit odd, as it had large expansive windows, but not a single display. And he'd never heard of the place either, so it wasn't like it was going on fame alone. Then he noticed that no one was entering or leaving it except for a few strange-looking individuals.

A man dressed in a tuxedo, complete with silk top hat, walked into the store. His dress alone was enough to draw attention, but it certainly helped that he was incredibly tall; Mike guessed around 6'11" at least.

A minute later, another character entered the jewelry store, this time a woman. She looked to be wearing something a flapper from the 1920s Jazz Age would have worn, and she must have really liked the color blue, because that's all she was wearing; even her hair was blue.

Mike had seen strange things in New York before, but he'd never known aliens were real until today. He guessed these guys were. And they were probably just shopping at their favorite jeweler's after eating a nice bowl of Orndian Borscht. But he didn't think so. Something about that store gave him the creeps.

He looked around for Harvey, but the man had disappeared inside the restaurant somewhere. He had told Mike to stay, which probably indicated he didn't want him to move from his spot by the menu. But Mike didn't really care. He'd had enough of being treated rudely by these people, and he was insanely bored.

He crossed the street and strolled casually into the jewelry store.

There wasn't a single soul in the place. Not the tall man, not the blue flapper, not even a clerk.

"Hello?" he called. The jewelry cases were filled with shiny costume jewelry, which Mike could instantly tell was fake. He wasn't an expert exactly, but he definitely recognized those rings from crackerjack boxes. Some of them even said "Made in Taiwan" or whatnot on them.

"Um, I'd like to buy something?" he called again, not that he'd pay more than a dollar for any of this junk.

Silence met him. He searched the place again, checking the floor, behind the counters, and on the ceiling. No sign that anything was ever in the place. It was so clean, he was surprised it didn't sparkle.

He jumped the counter and decided to check out the floor behind it, as there were no doors anywhere aside from the entrance. Eventually he found what he'd been looking for.

A trapdoor was well-hidden right behind the cheapest and largest cubic zirconias he'd ever seen that were labeled as "Engagement Rings". He pulled the door up and stepped down onto the ladder below, his foot landing on a metal rung with a soft _ping_.

Harvey would most definitely be unhappy, Mike thought with glee as he descended.

And kept descending.

And descending.

Did this ever end?

He was getting extremely tired of climbing when his foot finally touched something bigger than a rung. Exhausted, he hopped off the ladder and surveyed his surroundings. There was a large structure before him and it looked a bit like the public library building, if libraries were made entirely of metal.

There was a door at the end of the walkway, and despite feeling tired from climbing, Mike pushed through.

And ran right into the blue flapper.

"Sorry!" he yelled in apology. The woman turned and Mike saw that her skin, which had looked normal if a little pale in the daylight, was actually blue. It shimmered and moved, like she had liquid color flowing through her veins. And her eyes literally shone like stars. They hurt to look at for too long.

She smiled at him and said something that sounded like she was singing underwater.

Mike took a few startled steps back only to bump into the top hat man. Mike's hair barely came up to the man's shoulders as the man peered down at him. He had what looked like sheep's eyes, and they were the color of blood.

Mike tried to hold back any embarrassing noises, but a whimper made its way to the surface.

The blue flapper laughed. It sounded pretty.

"ccmnvmn,fsdfhasdfjhasd," the top hat man said in a mumble. Mike had no idea what was going on, but he suddenly felt sleepy. He was already drained from that ladder when he'd entered, but his adrenaline was pumping, and it was stuffy in here. Not to mention the frightening aliens. He leaned back against Top Hat, gazing deeply into Blue's eyes, ignoring the pain from the brightness. Top Hat put his hands on Mike's shoulders and Mike saw they had two opposable digits on either side. He wondered if that would be more or less useful than human hands and why evolution hadn't gone in that direction.

Blue stepped closer and grazed her soft blue fingers across his cheek, her eyes unblinking at him. She moved her fingers over his eyelids, gently forcing them shut, and Mike sank into the depths of whatever sleep he'd lulled into.

Harvey would definitely not be happy.


	6. Chapter 6

When he awoke, the first thing he noticed was that something was stuck to his face.

He opened his eyes only to find them fastened closed by a cloth across them, securing him in darkness. But there was something else there, and he shook his head to scream before realizing that whatever it was, it muffled any sound he made, and it was heavy.

He tested the rest of his limbs, but they were secured by his side. He felt soft sheets beneath him and maybe a blanket over him, but he was definitely strapped down.

He was stuck, with no idea of what was happening.

Where was Harvey? Hadn't he come to look for him? What happened with those aliens? Why couldn't he move?

Mike had no idea, and it scared him. He tried to calm himself down by reading a book from his memory, but all he could think of were those horror books Trevor had always been making him read. Needless to say, they weren't helping to make him feel any better.

After what felt like an eternity, he heard a door open and close and soft footsteps pad into the room. Fingers brushed his forehead and he recognized the feeling of Blue's skin. At least he knew he probably hadn't been rescued yet. Great.

She said something to him again in that odd, echoing sound. It felt soothing, and Mike found himself relaxing into her touch.

The door opened again, and this time he heard something definitely inhuman enter. Instead of steps, there was a dragging noise, like slime being pushed across the floor by a mop. A deep voice boomed at him from behind Blue, and Mike actually understood most of it.

"Does it live?"

Blue's voice seemed sad as she replied.

"It wears their mark. It should be removed."

Her voice had an edge to it this time, and he got the feeling she was angry. He really wished he could understand her. And what was 'their mark'? He didn't have any marks.

"It brought another. That one searches above."

"*****," she said.

"It will not find us."

"*****."

"True. It is special. Very well. It is yours and it must obey."

"*****."

Mike didn't like where the conversation had been going. He was certain the slime thing had been talking about Harvey, for one. And he got the uneasy feeling that the special one was him and he'd just been gifted to Blue.

He heard the door close and there was silence once more. He tensed against his bonds, wondering if Blue was still there, but after a minute he heard her leave. He was alone again.

His mind whirred as he tried to keep calm and think through the situation in the darkness. There must not have been any light in his room, since not even a speck was making it through his blindfold. And his restraints were very strong, too strong to break. But the cuffs around his wrists felt like leather, not metal, and he set about trying to twist his way through them. They bit into his skin, and wondered if there was a way to break his thumb one-handed so he could just slip out of the restraints.

After what he counted as three hours, he'd made some progress. His wrist felt like it was a bloody mess, and the blood loss was making him woozy, but he'd managed to stretch the cuff to allow his thumb to slip under. He wiggled a bit more and pulled with all his remaining strength until his hand slipped free of the thing.

He celebrated silently, reaching up to remove his blindfold, which didn't do much since there really wasn't much light in the room. A sliver of tungsten glow had dug beneath the door, allowing him to at least tell the difference between his eyes being open or closed, but aside from that he was still relying mostly on feel. He found the buckle to his left wrist's cuff and freed his hand and set to work on his feet.

After investigating, he came to the conclusion that he was wearing some kind of gas mask, and after pulling the thing off for a few seconds, decided it was actually there to help. There was something off about the air down here. He kept the gas mask.

He then tore some of the sheets he'd been on and used the strips as a makeshift bandage for his wrist. The blood loss was making him dizzy, but he felt like he was strong enough still to walk. He'd have to be if he wanted to make it out of here.

The door wasn't locked, miraculously, and Mike wondered if that was because Blue had forgotten on purpose, or if they just didn't see him as a threat.

The light stung his eyes, and he forced them into slits. They felt like they were burning.

He made his way out of there and into a narrow but high-ceilinged corridor. It looked like some kind of service corridor, with wires and pipes strung along the walls and the occasional sparks coming from them. He staggered down it, praying no one would see him, when his eyes caught something that looked like a map. He forced them open, ignoring the pain, as he studied the schematic.

There was an exit right next to him! He ran into the indicated room and found another ladder. Squeezing his eyes shut, he started to climb. And climb. And climb. Up as far as he'd gone down before, and his arms and legs were shaking with the effort. His right hand couldn't seem to grip the rungs, so he hooked his arms through instead, trying to keep up a quick pace. He had to get out of here. Now.

After a long while, his hand brushed something that felt like another trap door. He pushed on it until it snapped open and heaved himself out. It wasn't the jewelry store, but a meat locker. And it was freezing.

Shivering, Mike headed over to the door, pushing past hooks and frozen hunks of what looked like cow carcasses.

The door didn't budge, and he shivered against the cold.

With a desperate cry, he heaved his whole body against the door and adrenaline flooded him as he felt it give.

He ran at the thing again, and it shoved open into the kitchen of some Italian place. A cook was looking at him like he was crazy.

Mike hurried out into the warm New York air, remembering to take the gas mask off only after he received odd looks from the kitchen staff and restaurant customers.

There was a newspaper box outside selling a bunch of tabloids. He collapsed against it, the world spinning as he clung to the little metal contraption. He looked at his wrist and decided against it when he saw the white sheet he'd wrapped it in was a sickening red.

He fell against the concrete, he thought, since the world turned sideways. There were so many feet marching down before him, and he blinked in confusion as a pair of high heels clicked to a stop in front of him.

He followed the legs of the shoes up to see a familiar red-headed woman peering down at him, a cell phone in her hand.

"I found him," she was saying into the phone. "You better come pick us up. He doesn't look too good."

"Donna?" Mike asked wearily.

She knelt down in front of him, shaking her head. "Bad," she said to him, and gave him a light smack on the head.

He heard a car pull up behind him and turned to see Harvey getting out of what looked like a limo. Of course he'd have a limo, Mike thought and rolled his eyes.

Harvey grabbed his collar and dragged upward, forcing Mike to his feet. "How hard is it to follow a simple command, Mike?"

"I thought my name was M?" Mike muttered. His voice sounded weird and he felt like he was floating. "Did you want your next assignment, Bond?"

Harvey glared at him, but Mike thought he saw the corners of his mouth twitch. "Try this one. Get in the car," and he shoved Mike into the limousine.

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><p><strong>Ooh, the plot thickens! Hope you all enjoy! Thanks for reading!<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the delay! As a token of my apology, please accept this chapter in Harvey's POV! I'll try and have the next bit up sooner rather than later. Enjoy!**

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><p>Harvey was furious.<p>

"What is so impossible that you can't keep an eye on your new _partner_?" JP asked with an icy tone. Harvey recognized it as the voice she usually reserved for L and his troop of miscreants. It wasn't exactly a voice he aspired to hear.

"I told him to wait for me. I can't just bring in a kid in a cheap suit to meet the ambassador of the Elyrians. They'd rip him to shreds!" Harvey argued steadily. He was the picture of control.

JP gave him a hard stare before leaning forward in her seat, eyes peering out over her starch white desk. "At least it wouldn't be literally."

Harvey swallowed guiltily at that. Obviously, bringing the kid into the negotiations would've been a bad idea, but certainly he wouldn't have ended up in their infirmary. But Harvey told himself that feeling guilt was not acceptable. After all, he _had_ told the kid to stay; he shouldn't be held liable for the mistakes of others. Plus, guilt was one of those emotions usually reserved for the common man, and Harvey Specter was anything but common.

JP waited for a response, but Harvey knew when to keep his mouth shut. He waited patiently for his punishment.

"You need to understand something here, Harvey. That _kid_ is not your underling, or your gopher. He's your partner. And I need a god-damned team." She leaned back in her chair, weighing him with a pensive look. "If you don't give me what I need, I'll erase both your memories and I'll give _you_ to L."

"I told you I work better solo. And Donna is—"

"—not technically a part of this organization. No one works solo, Harvey. That's just the way it is."

He marched to her door, but paused. Over his shoulder he tossed out, "You do."

Her anger melted into a mask of hidden sorrow and immediately he felt regret for dealing the low blow. Just because H had never come back…

But that didn't matter now. JP was right. These weren't the good old days where Harvey was the top dog. He had asked to be put in the field so he'd follow the protocol. It didn't mean he'd have to like it, though.

He headed to the break room and poured himself a cup of coffee. Donna stood in the corner, chatting idly with Rachel.

"Harvey," Rachel called to him cheerfully. Harvey eyed her with indifference before taking a sip of the stale coffee. "Um, JP said…I mean, well, uh…how's M?"

Harvey gave her a withering look.

'Be nice!' Donna mouthed at him from behind Rachel. Harvey resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes.

"He's still out. They said they'd page me when his condition changed." Truthfully, he had no idea how Mike was. He hadn't actually been by to see him since they'd dragged him in to the infirmary bay. But he figured Rachel was going to report his response to JP, so he'd better give her a good show.

Rachel looked suspicious, but brushed her hair behind her ear nervously. "Oh, well, that's…I hope he's okay. I mean, he's going to be alright, right?"

Harvey couldn't believe it. She'd only just met the kid for an hour and she was already worried about his well-being? Women!

Donna pushed him aside, fortunately, and saved him from embarrassing himself. She was magical that way. "Mike's gonna be just fine. We'll let you know as soon as we hear any news on him."

Rachel nodded gratefully and walked from the room. Harvey heaved a tired sigh.

"You haven't been to see him, have you?" Donna asked him.

Harvey just gave her a meaningful look.

"You should. In fact, I think it'd be best if you saw him right now." She gave him a hard shove towards the door and disappeared down the corridor.

Harvey gritted his teeth but began the march to the elevators that would take him to the infirmary wing. The ward wasn't used often in their building, but occasionally the odd accident would occur and someone would be sent downstairs. Usually the accidents' source was found in L's department, what with all the strange technological experiments they were always performing.

The infirmary was abuzz with medics, not all of whom were human, and they all seemed to be swarming around one room in particular.

Harvey shoved his way through the throng, trying to avoid ruining his suit, and managed to press through the crowd until he hit the foot of a hospital bed that contained one former Mike Ross.

There were bright blue eyes that were closed to mere slits blinking at him in what was clearly pain, and Harvey decided that everyone needed to get the hell out.

Managing to turn himself around, he threw his arms into the air, wincing at the sound of tiny threads of fabric tearing, before shouting in his loudest courtroom voice, "Everybody out, NOW!"

The surge of medics stopped and proceeded to actually follow his directions, and they began to clear the room. There were a few annoyances left behind, however.

"But really, I only wish to take a scan of his brain. It really won't take very long," one particularly pasty technician was muttering as he pressed forward against the hoard. Harvey glared at him until he gulped and ran for his life.

A woman with long braided hair wound and stuffed haphazardly into a surgeon's cap was arguing with the doctor that was still shielding Mike's weak form from the crowd. Harvey tried to hear what was being said, when he was roughly grabbed by his lapels with two green and furry three-fingered hands. He looked up to find himself staring into the slitted eyes of a Purda Sermillion.

"The answer is no. And you're ruining my suit," he yelled at them with a glare. (It was anyone's guess as to what gender the thing was. They had three sexes and it was all very confusing.)

But I really need to map out his grey matter for my research. He's quite an interesting specimen and—

"NO! No means no!" Harvey was really getting very annoyed. He ripped the furred hands from his poor tattered suit and grabbed a large clipboard off the room's counter. Wielding it like some sort of gladiatorial shield he pressed at the crowd until he'd successfully pushed them out the door and slammed his fist on the release button. The door slid shut with a satisfying whoosh.

Harvey heaved a heavy sigh and straightened his garments before returning to Mike's bedside. The doctor and the braided woman were still arguing about something, but Harvey honestly didn't care anymore. He pulled up the little round stool and actually allowed himself to plop down onto the black cushion so he was next to Mike.

Running tired hands through his hair, Harvey finally took a moment to assess Mike's condition. He'd only known the kid for a few days, but he was sure Mike didn't normally look like he'd died, become a ghost, and taken up wearing splotchy bandages and hospital gowns. And the man was still blinking up at him.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" he asked, not really caring, but the blinking was bothering him.

Mike squeezed his eyes shut in response and shook his head.

"Is it too bright?" the female doctor asked suddenly.

Mike bit his lip, gave a short stare at Harvey that was most definitely uninterrupted by any blinks, and then nodded enthusiastically at the woman. She marched over to the light switch and dimmed the fluorescents.

Harvey frowned at the light switch. Mike had stared easily enough at him, so why the show of pretending the lights hurt him? Harvey guessed the kid wanted to talk to him privately, so he told the doctors to promptly exit the room before he sued their asses off the planet, and moved closer to the bed.

"Are they gone?" Mike asked hesitantly.

"They're gone."

Mike inhaled noisily in relief and Harvey found himself doing the same. "Thank God. You should have heard the things they were saying. One of them suggested performing an autopsy! I'm not dead yet! Please, Harvey, you've gotta get me out of here."

Harvey chuckled at Mike's pleading. He'd heard for himself what the doctors had wanted to do with his partner, and that was by far one of the milder proposals.

"It's really not funny," Mike insisted from the bed.

"It's a little funny." He ignored Mike's glare at him. "So what's the deal with the secret blinking? I don't think I translated properly, but then I'm not versed in Morse code, so…"

"Ha. Ha. Look, I didn't want to tell the doctors, because they only got like that when they saw my MRI results, but I think I may be seeing things."

Harvey raised an eyebrow. It's a good thing they didn't know about Mike's resistance to their memory erasures or his freaky ability to process information. He actually shuddered to think what they might have done. But he didn't want to seem like he actually cared, so instead he said, "I can arrange to move you to a room with padded walls…"

"Look, I get it, okay! I know I didn't listen to you and I didn't stay when you told me to, but I'm not a dog nor do I appreciate being treated like one, and I think it's really unfair of you to keep me in the dark here!" Mike was practically shouting by the time he was done.

"You were the one who wanted the lights dimmed," Harvey snapped back.

Mike was silent.

Harvey raked a hand through his already ruined hair. "It was wrong of me to treat you like a dog. Clearly you can't even follow the simplest of orders."

"I said I was sorry. Just…just go ahead and wipe my memory or whatever it is you do. I just want things to go back to normal."

Harvey froze. Maybe he'd gone too far with the being a jerk thing. After all, he didn't care too much about Mike, but JP was another matter. And she'd said to play nice.

"Too bad. We're partners, kiddo. We're stuck with each other."

Mike looked up at him, unhappiness clear on his face. "Partners? You mean, where I do whatever you tell me to and I'm treated like a child?"

Harvey gave him a level look. "No. The real deal. I'm still in charge, and you still have to listen to me, but only because I have more experience and more connections. But I promise I'll listen to you."

Mike gazed at him for what seemed like forever, but finally he nodded. "Okay. I think," and he heaved another great breath, "that it's okay to trust you. And I really need you trust me, Harvey."

"I'm trying," he answered coolly.

Mike gave a nervous smile. "Okay. Well, I'm seeing…something. I think it's a bunch of stars, but I'm not sure. There's all this other stuff in the way. And when I close my eyes to see it, it vanishes."

"I thought you could remember anything you looked at."

"Yeah, but I don't understand this, so I can't process it. I think that's how it works anyway. There isn't exactly a handbook on this stuff, Harvey. Anyway…I don't remember where I saw it, either, so it's really hard to recall the whole image. It's like a puzzle with missing pieces. I can't see the whole picture without them."

Harvey nodded. He sort of understood what Mike was trying to say. "Well, when are you cleared for duty?"

Mike gave him a mischievous grin before answering. "Yeah, about that…I could have left hours ago, but—"

"—but it was safer in here." Harvey understood. It's not like anyone could have made it out of the room with that murderous crowd in the way. He had, but then he was Harvey Specter.

Mike gave another grin and hopped off the bed. "Should I meet you in your office after I've changed?"

Harvey scowled. "Nope. We're getting you a real suit."

Mike copied his expression. "I can't really afford—"

"Mike. We're intergalactic secret agents. We don't have to pay."

"Oh. Cool. Wait. So you're getting me a suit like yours? Isn't that against regulation?"

Harvey gave him an odd stare at that comment.

"I may have gotten a hold of the agency bylaws and policies."

Harvey tried not to show the fact that he was impressed by this kid. "Yes, it will be almost as nice as mine. I can't have my partner running around looking like he shops at Target."

"I'd feel insulted, but considering that you'd have to be insane to not appreciate their discounts, I'll choose instead to be the better man."

"And yet you're still talking."

"And you're still violating a dozen regulations."

Harvey rolled his eyes. This partnership thing was going to be a nightmare.

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><p><strong>Well, I hope you liked this bit. I promise answers will be forthcoming about what went down in Mike's little excursion into the jewelry shop depths. Thanks for reading! You are all wonderful, patient people. As for those of you who reviewed and told me to update immediately...please do so again! Seriously! It made me feel just terrible for leaving everyone hanging and I got straight to work, so please...feel free to motivate me again. ;)<strong>


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